The Foundling

Chapter VII

The Duke awoke on the following morning with a pleasurable feeling that something agreeable lay before him. When he remembered what it was, he was obliged to own to himself that to negotiate with Mr. Swithin Liversedge might not prove to be an altogether delightful experience; but the prospect of escaping from his household, for as much perhaps as three or four days, was attractive enough to make him feel that any possible unpleasantness with Mr. Liversedge would be more than compensated for. He felt adventurous, and while he waited for Nettlebed to bring the hot chocolate with which inmates of any house under Lord Lionel’s direction still regaled themselves before getting out of bed in the morning, he lay revolving in his head various plans for his escape.

It was plainly impossible to divulge to Nettlebed the least particle of his intentions; for Nettlebed would certainly insist on accompanying him on any journey which he might undertake. And if he refused to allow Nettlebed to go with him, Nettlebed would assuredly inform his uncle of his revolutionary behaviour without a moment’s loss of time. How Nettlebed was to be prevented from telling Lord Lionel of his nephew’s disappearance, he had no very clear idea, but he trusted that one would present itself to his mind during the course of the day. And if none did, and Lord Lionel did discover his truancy—well, he would be back at Sale House again before his lordship could do anything unwelcome, and although he might have to endure one of his tremendous scolds, he would at least have enjoyed a brief spell of freedom.

Money presented no difficulties. He had scarcely broken into the hundred pounds Scriven had drawn for him on his bank, so that he would not be forced to arouse suspicion by demanding more. The hardest problem, he soon realized, would be the packing of a valise to take with him.

He had not the smallest notion where his valises and trunks were stored. This was a severe set-back, and he wasted some minutes in trying to think out a way of discovering this vital information before it occurred to him that he could very well afford to buy a new valise. Probably his own bore his cypher upon them: he could not remember, but it seemed likely, since those who ordered such things for him had what amounted to a mania for embossing them either with his crest, or with a large and flourishing letter S.

He would need shirts, too, and his night-gear, and ties, wrist-bands, brushes, combs, razors, and no doubt a hundred other things which it was his valet’s business to assemble for him. He had a dressing-case, and a toilet-battery, but he could not take either of these. Nor could he take the brushes that lay on his dressing-table, for they naturally bore his cypher. And if he abstracted a few ties and shirts from the pile of linen in his wardrobe, would Nettlebed instantly discover their absence, and run him to earth before he had had time to board the coach? He decided that he must take that risk, for although he knew he could purchase soap, and brushes, and valises, he had no idea that it might be possible to purchase a shirt. One’s shirts were made for one, just as one’s coats and breeches were, and one’s boots. But to convey out of Sale House, unobserved, a bundle of clothing, was a task that presented insuperable obstacles to the Duke’s mind. He was still trying to hit upon a way out of the difficulty when Nettlebed came in, and softly drew back the bed-curtains.

The Duke sat up, and pulled off his night-cap. He looked absurdly small and boyish in the huge bed, so that it was perhaps not so very surprising that Nettlebed should have greeted him with a few words of reproof for the late hours he had kept on the previous evening.

“I never thought to see your Grace awake, not for another two hours I did not!” he said, shaking his head. “The idea of Mr. Matthew’s sitting with you for ever, and keeping you from your bed until past three o’clock!”

The Duke took the cup of chocolate from him, and began to sip it. “Don’t be so foolish, Nettlebed!” he said. “You know very well that during the season I was seldom in bed before then, and sometimes much later!”

“But this is not the season, my lord!” said Nettlebed unanswerably. “And what is more you was often very fagged, which his lordship observed to me when we left town, and it was his wish you should recruit your strength, and keep early hours, and well I know that if he had been here Mr. Matthew would have been sent off with a flea in his ear! For bear with Mr. Matthew’s tiresome ways his lordship never has, and never will! And I think it my duty to tell you, my lord, that the piece of very gratifying intelligence your Grace was so obliging as to inform me of last night, in what one might call a confidential way, is known to the whole house, including the kitchenmaids, who have not above six pounds a year, and do not associate with the upper servants!”

“No, is it indeed?” said the Duke, not much impressed, but realizing from long experience that Nettlebed’s sensitive feelings had received a severe wound. “I wonder how it can have got about? I suppose Scriven must have dropped a hint to someone.”

“Mr. Scriven,” said Nettlebed coldly, “would not so demean himself, your Grace, being as I am myself, in your Grace’s confidence. But what, your Grace, am be expected, when—”

“Nettlebed,” said the Duke plaintively, “when you call me your Grace with every breath you draw I know I have offended you, but indeed I had no notion of doing so, and I wish you will forgive me, and let me have no more Graces!”

His henchman paid not the least heed to this request, but continued as though there had been no interruption. “But what, your Grace, can be expected, when your Grace scribbles eight advertisements of your Grace’s approaching nuptials, and leaves them all on the floor to be gathered up by an under-servant who should know his place better than to be prying into your Grace’s business?”

“Well, it doesn’t signify,” said the Duke. “The news will be in tomorrow’s Gazette, I daresay, so there is no harm done.”

Nettlebed cast him a look of deep reproach, and began to lay out his raiment.

“And I told you of it myself,” added the Duke placatingly.

“I should have thought it a very singular circumstance, your Grace, had I learnt it from any other lips than your Grace’s,” replied Nettlebed crushingly.

The Duke was just about to apply himself to the task of smoothing his ruffled sensibilities when he suddenly perceived how Nettlebed’s displeasure might be turned to good account. While Nettlebed continued in a state of umbrage, he would hold himself aloof, and without neglecting any part of his duties would certainly not hover solicitously about him. He would become, in fact, a correct and apparently disinterested servant, answering the summons of a bell with promptitude, but waiting for that summons. In general, the Duke took care not to permit such a state of affairs to endure for long, since Nettlebed could, in a very subtle way, make him most uncomfortable. Besides, he did not like to be upon bad terms with his dependants. Lying back against his pillows, he considered the valet under his lashes, knowing very well that Nettlebed was ready to accept an amend. Nettlebed had just laid his blue town coat tenderly over a chair, and was now giving a final dusting to a pair of refulgent Hessian boots. The Duke let him finish this, and even waited until he had selected a suitable waistcoat to match this attire before—apparently—becoming aware of his activities. He yawned, set down his cup, and said: “I shall wear riding-dress today.”

At any other time, such wayward behaviour in one whom he had attended since his twelfth year would have called from Nettlebed a rebuke. He would, moreover, have entered into his master’s plans for the day, and have sent down a message to the stables for him. But today he merely folded his lips tightly, and without uttering a word restored the town raiment to the wardrobe.

This awful and unaccustomed silence was maintained throughout the Duke’s toilet. It was only broken when the Duke rejected the corbeau-coloured coat being held up for him to put on. “No, not that one,” said the Duke indifferently. “The olive coat Scott made for me.”

Nettlebed perceived that this was deliberate provocation, and swelled with indignation. Scott, who made Captain Ware’s uniforms, and was largely patronized by the military, was an extremely fashionable tailor, but the Duke’s father had never had a coat from him, and Nettlebed had disliked the olive coat on sight. But he only permitted himself one glance of censure at his master before bowing stiffly, and turning away.

“I shall be out all day, and don’t know when I may return,” said the Duke carelessly. “I shan’t need you, so you may have the day to yourself.”

Nettlebed bowed again, more stiffly than ever, and assisted him to shrug himself into the offending coat. The Duke pulled down his wrist-bands, straightened his cravat, and went down to the breakfast-parlour, feeling very like his own grandfather, who was widely reported to have been a harsh and exacting master, who bullied all his servants, and thought nothing of throwing missiles at any valet who happened to annoy him.

But his cruelty attained its object. When he ventured to go upstairs again to his bedchamber there was no sign of Nettlebed. The Duke trod over to his wardrobe, and opened it. He seemed to have so many piles of shirts stacked on one of the shelves that he thought it unlikely that Nettlebed would notice any depredations, provided he took a few from each pile. He took six, to be on the safe side, and began to hunt for his nightshirts and caps. By the time he had made a selection amongst these, and had added a number of ties, and other necessaries, to the heap on the bed, this had assumed formidable proportions, and he surveyed it rather doubtfully. By dint of asking an incurious under-footman for it, he had been able to procure some wrapping-paper and a ball of twine without incurring question, but he began to think that it was not going to be an easy task to tie up all these articles of apparel into a neat bundle. He was quite right. By the time he had achieved anything approaching a tolerable result he was slightly heated, and a good deal exasperated. And when he looked dispassionately at his bundle he realized that it would be quite impossible for him to walk out of his house carrying such a monstrous package. Then he bethought him that if he did not leave his house quickly he would very likely fall into the clutches of Captain Belper, and fright sharpened his wits. He sent for his personal footman, that splendid fellow who did not care a fig for what might become of him. When the man presented himself, he waved a careless hand towards the bundle, and said: “Francis, you will oblige me, please, by carrying that package round to Captain Ware’s chambers, and giving it into his man’s charge. Inform Wragby that it contains—that it contains some things I promised to send Captain Ware! Perhaps I had best send the Captain a note with it!”

“Very good, your Grace,” said Francis, with a gratifying lack either of surprise or of interest.

The Duke pulled out his tablets from his pocket, found a pencil, and scrawled a brief message. “Gideon,” he wrote, “‘pray keep this bundle for me till I come to you this evening. Sale.”He tore off the leaf from his tablets, twisted it into a screw, and gave it to Francis. “And, Francis!” he said, rather shyly.

“Your Grace?”

“Do you think,” said the Duke, with a faint, rueful smile, “you can contrive to leave the house without Nettlebed’s seeing you, or Borrowdale, or—or anyone?”

“Certainly, your Grace,” said Francis woodenly.

“Thank you!” said the Duke, with real gratitude.

He would have been surprised had he been privileged to read the thoughts in his footman’s head. This impassive individual had not been a year in the employment of the gentlest-mannered master he had ever served without developing a lively sympathy for him. It was his opinion, freely expressed to his intimates over a heavy-wet, that there was never a lad so put-upon as the little Duke, and that it fair made a man’s blood boil to hear old Gundiguts and Muffin-face a-worriting him, not to mention my Lord Stiff-Rump, treating the lad to enough cross-and-jostle work to drive him into Bedlam. So far from not caring a fig for what became of the Duke, he was extremely curious to know what mischief he was up to, for mischief he would go bail it was. It would be a rare treat to slumguzzle Gundiguts and Muffin-face, and he was only sorry that his training forbade him to offer his master any further, assistance he might need in hoodwinking them and all the rest of the household, rump and stump.

The Duke drew his watch out, and glanced at it apprehensively. The menace of Captain Belper loomed large. He dived into his hanging-wardrobe, found a long, drab-coloured driving-coat with several shoulder-capes, a high collar, and large mother-of-pearl buttons; and a high-crowned beaver hat. He thought that he might perhaps be glad of a muffler, so he searched for that too. He could not think of anything else that he might need, so having assured himself that the visiting-card he had wrested from his unwilling cousin Matthew was safely tucked into hispocket-book, he left his room, and walked sedately down the great staircase.

The porter, who was sitting in a large leather chair by the front door, got up as soon as he saw him and told him that a package had just been delivered at the house from Joseph Manton’s. This instantly put the Duke in mind of the absolute necessity of taking a good pair of pistols with him upon his hazardous adventure. In spite of the danger of being caught by Captain Belper, he was quite unable to resist the temptation of carrying Manton’s package into the library, and unwrapping his purchase. The pistols, a really beautiful pair, lay snugly in their leather case, looking very slender and wicked. The Duke lifted one from its velvet bed, and tested its balance lovingly. No one could expect him to leave such peerless acquisitions behind! He slid the case into his capacious pocket, and the ball and powder thoughtfully provided by Mr. Manton in another pocket, telling himself that Baldock would be the very place for a little practice.

He went out into the hall again to find that Borrowdale had sailed into it from his quarters at the back of the house, attended rather regally by two footmen. Borrowdale wished to know if his Grace would be dining at home, and—with a glance at his Grace’s top-boots—whether his Grace desired his horse to be brought round.

“No,” said the Duke jauntily. “No, thank you, Borrowdale. I do not desire anything at all. And if Captain Belper should call—you do not know when I shall be returning.”

“Very good, your Grace,” bowed Borrowdale. “And when does your Grace expect to return?”

The Duke smiled at him. “But if you knew that you would not be able to tell Captain Belper that you did not, would you?” he said gently.

Before Borrowdale had recovered from his surprise sufficiently to disabuse his master’s mind of its curious misapprehension, the Duke had left the house.

His first objective was the General Post Office in Lombard Street. He drove to the City in a hackney carriage, which was an adventure in itself, since he had never ridden in one before, but a disappointment awaited him at the Post Office, where he discovered that as the mails all left London overnight he must he prepared to leave town at half-past eight that evening if he wished to avail himself of their services. A burly citizen in a low-crowned hat took pity on his inexperience, and directed him to a stage coach office, at the Saracen’s Head in Aldgate High Street. He seemed amused when the Duke, thanking him, asked the way to Aldgate High Street, said that he was a regular Johnny Raw, and begged him not to let himself be smoked by any fly-coves whom he might meet.

The Saracen’s Head was a big, busy hostelry, with two tiers of galleries running round a paved courtyard. Even at eleven o’clock in the morning, with most of the outgoing coaches departed long since, it was the scene of considerable activity, and quite a number of persons were waiting in the coach-office to book places on one or other of the many coaches which had their headquarters at the Saracen’s Head. The Duke, when it came to his turn, was successful in obtaining the box-seat on the Highflyer, which was due to leave London at eight in the morning, on its long journey to Edinburgh, and would arrive at Baldock at about noon. He then engaged a room at the inn for one night, and, evading the urgent entreaties of a lady who held a bunch of watercress under his nose, and refusing the offer of a one-legged man to sell him a doormat, he set off to look for a shop where he could buy a valise.

This was soon accomplished, and having arranged for the bag to be delivered at Captain Ware’s chambers, the Duke was able to turn his attention to such minor matters as the purchasing of soap, and tooth-powder, and a razor. He was directed to Bedford House, where he was most surprised to find for what a small sum he could buy hair-brushes, and combs, and other such articles. In the end, he made so many small purchases that he was obliged once more to make use of his cousin’s chambers.

It was just before eight, having whiled away the afternoon as best he could, that he entered the precincts of Albany. As he strolled up the Rope-Walk, an acquaintance who was sallying forth in evening attire, levelled a quizzing-glass at his top-boots, and said: “Just arrived from the Country, I see, Duke! I did not know you were expected in town. Are you on your way to your cousin? You will find him at home: I saw him come in above an hour ago/’

“I am dining with him,” the Duke replied.

“Well, I shall see you at White’s tomorrow, I daresay.”

The Duke agreed to this somewhat mendaciously, and passed on.

When he was admitted into Captain Ware’s chambers, his cousin met him in the hall with a ribald demand to know whether he took his lodging for a receiving office.

The Duke smiled up at him engagingly. “Oh, I could think of nowhere else to have them sent!” he said. “You can have no notion how busy I have been!”

“But, Adolphus, has it come to this, that you are obliged to fetch your linen home from the washerwoman?” asked Gideon, pointing to the unwieldy bundle on the floor.

“So Francis contrived to smuggle it away! Good!” said the Duke, casting off his greatcoat. “Gideon, I have slipped my leash!”

“Capital!” approved his cousin. “Come and tell me the whole!”

The Duke followed him into his sitting-room, but said: “Well, no! I think I will not, if you do not mind it very much!”

“Then tell me nothing at all,” said Gideon, handing him a glass of sherry. “Not, believe me, Adolphus, that I would cast the least rub in your way!”

The Duke, with the nature of his adventure in mind, was not so sure of this. His big cousin could be depended upon to aid and abet him in kicking over his irksome traces, but let him catch but one whiff of Mr. Liversedge and his demands and he would without any doubt at all cast very much more than a rub in the way. So he smiled again, and sipped his sherry.

Gideon, who knew that sweet, abstracted smile, said accusingly: “Adolphus, you are brewing mischief!”

“Oh, no!” said Gilly. “I am just very tired of being myself, and I am going to take your advice, and try how I like being plain Mr. Dash. To be Duke of Sale is a dead bore!”

“I am aware. Did I so advise you? My father will want my head on a charger!”

“Last night. I have made a start already, for I have been doing all manner of things that I never did before. A man I met in the City took me for a Johnny Raw. And I think he was right: I am shockingly green! But I shall soon learn. I am going out of town, you know.”

“So I had supposed. Does that infamous bundle contain your raiment?”

“Yes, and such a work as I had to get it away without Nettlebed’s seeing it! Gideon, I think perhaps Nettlebed may seek me here. Do, pray, assure him that I am safe, and keep them all from flying into some absurd pucker!”

“You may rely on me, Adolphus,—if not to do quite what you would wish—at least to afford your retinue no clue whatsoever to your whereabouts. In fact, I shall deny all knowledge of you.”

“Poor Nettlebed!” said Gilly. “I fear he will be in despair. I offended him this morning, and left him quite out of charity with me. I suppose it is a great deal too bad of me to put him in a fright, but I can’t bear it any longer, Gideon! They treat me as though I were a child, or an imbecile! I cannot move a step without one or other of them running to call my carriage, or hand me my gloves, or ask me when I mean to return! Yes, yes, I know what you will say! But I cannot do it! I have made the attempt, but the devil of it is I can’t but remember how Borrowdale used to give me sugar-plums when I was in disgrace, and how dear, good Chigwell told my uncle it was he who broke the window in the Red Drawing-room, and how Nettlebed has nursed me whenever I have been ill—oh, and a hundred other things of the kind!”

Gideon’s crooked smile flickered. “Very well. So, since you cannot bring yourself to tell them that you are a man, and can fend for yourself, you mean to show them that it is so. Is that it?”

“I suppose it is. That is, I didn’t think of it, but perhaps it may answer! I only thought how much I wished to be free! But I own if the chance had not offered I should still be talking fustian about being blue-devilled, and making not the least push to assert myself! I must be the dullest, most spiritless dog alive!”

“Oh, without doubt!” agreed Gideon. “But has this humdrum age suddenly offered you adventure, Adolphus? I had not believed it to be possible!”

“A very small adventure!” the Duke said, laughing. “I have found something to do for myself, and perhaps I can do it, and perhaps I cannot, but at all events I mean to try. And for once in my life I am going to see how it would be not to be a Duke, with servants puffing off my consequence wherever I go, and toad-eaters agreeing with every ill-considered word I utter, and inn-keepers bowing till their noses touch their knees, and the common world saying nothing but Yes, your Grace! and No, your Grace! and As your Grace pleases! Do you think I shall make a sad botch of it?”

“No, my little one, I think you have a very good understanding, and will manage tolerably well for yourself, but whether you will enjoy the experience of having none to wait on you is another matter,” grinned Gideon. “It won’t harm you, however: you have been kept well-wrapped in lamb’s-wool for too long. I hope you will have very exciting adventures, and slay a great many giants and dragons. I wish I might see you!”

“Oh, no, that would never do!” Gilly said, shaking his head. “You would think me very slow in killing my dragon, and soon fall out of patience with me, and end by pushing me out of the way, and slaying the beast yourself!” He added with a gleam of humour: “And I have a melancholy suspicion that if I had you within call I shouldn’t take the trouble, to think of anything for myself. Oh, I am sure I should wait for you to tell me what I must do next, for that is always what I used to do, and habits, you know, are damnably hard to break! And you are a very peremptory, autocratic, and overbearing fellow, Gideon!”

“Alas! Shall you give me a sharp set-down when you come back from your adventure?”

“Very likely,” said Gilly, putting his empty glass down.

Wragby came into the room to set the dishes on the table. His master told him that he need not wait, and the Duke said, as he took his seat: “How snug this is! Shall I carve this bird? I can, you know! My uncle says a man should know how to carve anything that is set before him. I can shoe a horse, too. Now, why do you suppose he should have thought I must learn such a thing as that? He is the strangest creature! How angry he will be with me when he hears what I have been about! It makes me shake like a blancmanger only to think of it.”

“Amongst the many odd fancies that come into my head, Adolphus,” said his cousin dryly, “is the fancy—I have often been conscious of it!—that in spite of your meekness you do not shake like a blancmanger before my father!”

“No, of course I don’t: he is a great deal too kind to me. But I do not like it when he storms at me, and arguing gives me the headache. I always try to slip away, and being so small and unremarkable I can in general manage to do so,” said the Duke serenely.

Gideon smiled. “Your elusive ways are well known to me. And, by God, it is just what you are doing, now I come to think of it! Don’t try to gammon me with your hints of adventures to be embarked on! You are merely slipping away to rather more purpose than usual. What lying story have you fobbed your devoted servants off with?”

The Duke looked up with rather a guilty twinkle in his eyes. “Well, to tell you the truth, I haven’t,” he confessed. “You cannot slip away unobserved if you tell people you mean to go!”

“Gilly, for God’s sake—! Have you left them without a word?” exclaimed Gideon.

The Duke nodded. For a moment Gideon sat staring at him with knit brows. Then he burst out laughing. “It’s the maddest quirk I ever heard tell of, and who—who would have guessed that you had it in you to do it?” he said. “Adolphus, I no longer despair of you! You will undoubtedly set your whole household by the ears, from my father down to your lowliest footman, and it will do them a great deal of good! Don’t come back too soon! Let them learn their lesson past fear of forgetting it: you may then enjoy some peace hereafter. Fill up your glass! We’ll have a toast to your emancipation. No daylights, no heel-taps!”

Then Duke obeyed, and pushed the bottle across the table. “No, we shall drink to the adventures of Mr. Dash!” he said.

“Anything you please!” grinned his cousin, and tossed off his wine with a flourish.

The Duke followed suit. As he lowered his glass, the ring on his finger caught his eye. He drew it off. “Keep that for me!” he said, handing it to Gideon. “It quite ruins my disguise!”